


P(r)etty Woman

by decidueye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Other, Revenge, Trans Male Character, customer service koutarou, trans nonbinary character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 04:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15549573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/pseuds/decidueye
Summary: Bokuto Koutarou works a mindless job at a convenience store and entertains himself through evening shifts by people watching. Getting caught up in Akaashi Keiji's quest for revenge was something he never expected.





	P(r)etty Woman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keptein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptein/gifts).



> It's really important to me that Akaashi is shown to be petty as fuck, so I decided to write a fic about it. Akaashi is nonbinary but wears skirts, so Bokuto initially uses she/her pronouns until he finds out that they use gender neutral ones. It's my first time writing a fic where Akaashi is assumed to be a woman (trans or cis) before clarification, but I thought it was a necessary step for me. I hope you enjoy it!  
> Thanks to Fox for the beta, who enabled the final version to be a surprise for Kep, who's away right now. I miss you and I'd burn a thousand vehicles for you.

Night shifts at the convenience store have always been hell for Koutarou, who thrives on a regular sleep schedule, so he gets by on people watching. After 11pm the people who wander into the shop get pretty interesting, and Koutarou amuses himself by creating stories for them all. He even has names for the regulars - people who visit at the same time every night or every few nights, and always buy the same things. He's not scared of the dark, exactly, but he's seen the news, and he knows the only time his job  _ could _ be dangerous is after midnight, so the routine of mundane, not-quite-strangers keeps him feeling safe, lulled into the haze of witching hour shopping.

 

He's jolted out of that haze one Friday night, however, when one half of ‘Hot Couple’ - the half that never comes in alone - storms into the shop a little after 1:30, slamming the door so hard that Koutarou worries for the safety of the bell.

 

‘Hot Couple’, as Koutarou has dubbed them, usually come in during the weekend, always after midnight, and always after what Koutarou assumes is mind blowingly good sex. There's no other explanation for their flushed cheeks and hazy glow, and they're both so attractive they were clearly made for each other. The ‘smug’ half lives around here, because he comes in on other days of the week for snacks and essentials, but Koutarou knows next to nothing about the ‘mysterious’ one, other than that she (or they? Koutarou hasn't figured it out yet, and there's been no chance for him to ask) has a laugh as ugly as she is stunning, and that she doesn't seem to like PDA but lets the smug one grope her ass in the store at 2am anyway. Koutarou had assumed she was aloof, because she was never one for smalltalk, preferring to hang back while her partner bought food and condoms (making a statement, Koutarou thought, that was totally unnecessary), but right now she is the exact opposite. Mysterious Hottie is the picture of rage as she pulls things off the shelves - red wine, a carton of eggs and a pocket knife - slamming them onto the counter and looking at Koutarou with burning eyes.

 

It might just be the hottest thing Koutarou has ever seen, but he's at work right now, and he has a service to provide - a responsibility, he should say, because thinking about ‘services’ sends his mind into a gutter he might not be able to climb out of.

 

Now that she's closer, Koutarou can see that her eyeliner is smudged, and he can  _ smell _ that the flush in her cheeks isn't just from sex or rage - it's from alcohol, too. 

 

“Uh…” Koutarou begins, really wishing this wasn't the first conversation he was having with this half of the Hot Couple. “I'm not allowed to sell you alcohol if you're already drunk.”

 

“It's not for drinking,” she snarls, and Koutarou swallows, so glad she can't see the way his knees weaken behind the counter. Her voice is deeper than Koutarou expected, and her growl is something straight out of his private fantasies. “It's for that loser's car.”

 

“Huh,” Koutarou says, mulling it over. “Well, now I'm having doubts about the knife…”

 

“You're not my mother,” comes the sullen response, but she moves away anyway, sweeping the knife aside. After another circuit of the store she comes back with a metal baseball bat; old stock that Koutarou thought they had run out of months ago. He's not even sure it's in the system.

 

“Happy?” 

 

“Not really, but you said it - I'm not your mother,” Koutarou's cheeks are burning. He can't believe he embarassed himself so much that he can only hope she won't remember it next week. She wrinkles her nose - perfect even when ruddy from alcohol and emotion - and sighs.

 

“Whatever, you were looking out for me, I get it. A good samaritan,” she says. Koutarou suspects this is her attempt to make him feel better. The sentiment is enough to bolster his courage.

 

“...You know, if you really want that to stain, you should add soy sauce. That is, if you're not using the alcohol to set something on fire,” he starts to run the items through the cash register. “ID, please.”

 

‘Akaashi Keiji’, as Koutarou learns, snorts loudly, leaving a driver's license on the counter as she goes to get a bottle, calling back, “you're a genius.” Koutarou studies the license carefully, chewing on his lip as he waits for Akaashi to return.

 

“...Is it rude of me to ask about your pronouns? Which ones you use for yourself, I mean.”

 

Akaashi's gaze narrows. “Are you going to talk about me?”

 

“No - not if you don't want to, I mean, but - it's just I've seen you here a few times now and I've been thinking of you as a ‘she’, but if you'd rather ‘they’, or ‘he’, or something else, I wouldn't wanna get it wrong, even in my head. It doesn't seem fair.”

 

Akaashi's expression mellows into a pleasant surprise Koutarou is all too familiar with - it's rare to find people in this neighborhood who have that understanding and sensitivity, so he tries his best to show his allegiances where he can.

 

“I prefer ‘they’,” Akaashi says, sounding more gentle than they have done since they came in. “‘She’ is okay too, as long as it's not ‘he’. Not that I'll be visiting here again.”

 

“Gotcha,” Koutarou says, and then frowns. “You won't, but what about…? Oh,  _ he’s _ the loser. I'm sorry.”

 

Akaashi nods, gathering their purchases and leaning heavily against the counter. “Some advice: if you don't want this-”  they gesture to the bag “to be you, don't break up with someone after sex. Orgasm do  _ not _ soften the blow, I promise you.”

 

Koutarou winces. “I'll remember…Damn. I always thought he was a jerk. He never buys coffee for the guy outside. You can do better.”

 

Akaashi offers a small smile. It's hard-edged and cold, but there's a sadness behind it too, and Koutarou has to hold onto the counter to stop himself from reaching over and giving them a hug.

 

“I'm glad someone thinks so,” they say. “If the police call, you saw nothing.”

 

Placing his hand on his heart, Koutarou nods. “I promise,” he says, and as Akaashi goes to leave the shop, Koutarou gathers his courage once more, shouting on impulse. “I'll miss you!”

 

Akaashi's ugly, snorting laugh rings out at the same time as the doorbell, and then they're gone, leaving the shop quiet once more. Koutarou sighs, spinning in his chair, and pictures a different, more adventurous version of himself: one that ditches work to help wreck a strangers car to win the favour of a beautiful, petty customer.

 

**

 

Even though Koutarou knows it would have been bad form to hit on someone after a prolifically bad break up, he can’t help but feel like he’s missed an opportunity. When Akaashi’s now-ex comes into the store on his own during Koutarou’s next shift, his heart drops a little.

 

Not that it would have been better to see them together, of course, but - this means they probably  _ won’t _ be coming back anytime soon, and surely bad timing would have been better than never? At least then he wouldn’t have had to dwell on the possibilities. Koutarou chews on the inside of his cheek, sulking to himself as Akaash’s ex saunters through the store.

 

He reaches the counter, slapping down a ready meal, stain remover and a six-pack of cheap beer. Koutarou has to stop himself from snorting; it’s even cheaper than the wine Akaashi bought to get their revenge.

 

“Big night in?” Koutarou makes small talk as he rings up the items. He doesn’t usually like to make assumptions about customers, but he’s desperate for details and doesn’t mind changing up his routine if it helps him get them.

 

‘Big Loser’, renamed thanks to Akaashi’s rants, raises an eyebrow. “Does it look it?” he asks bitterly. “I’ve got to spend my only night off this week cleaning my car.”

 

“Oh...that’s awful,” Koutarou says, and he thanks god for his customer service voice, because otherwise he’d never manage to sound sincere. “What happened?”

 

“Some - oh, nevermind,” Big Loser says, exhaling forcefully and shaking his head in dismissal. “They’re not worth it.”

 

Anger sparks in Koutarou’s chest, knowing that he’s talking about Akaashi. How could he say that they weren’t worth it after making them angry enough to fuck him over in the first place? Koutarou didn’t even know Akaashi and already thought they were worth all this and more.

 

On his own, Big Loser looked much less attractive, Koutarou thought as he bagged up the items. Akaashi was gorgeous enough to bring the level of everyone around them up.

 

“Have a nice evening!” Koutarou says, flashing his best smile as he hands over the bag. Big Loser grunts, fully aware that Koutarou is messing with him now, and turns his back on him without a word.

 

**

Koutarou has never believed in karma before, but if messing with someone’s asshole ex is classed as a good deed then he’s ready to revamp his entire worldview when Akaashi comes in the next day. It takes a moment for Koutarou to look up from his magazine and recognise them; he leaps to his feet  in a flurry of paper when he does, swearing. Lucky for him, Akaashi doesn’t seem to notice his clumsiness - they’re lurking at the back of the shop, staring intently at the discount shelves. Koutarou has time to recover himself, checking his hair in the reflective glass of the pastry case and bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for them to approach.

 

Time passes agonisingly slow until Akaashi shuffles to the counter with a packet of sweets, and Koutarou tries his best to look like a bad employee but a cool guy, looking away until they’re right in front of him and making a surprised noise, like he hadn’t been watching their every move around the shop. The sweets are a generic brand, and Koutarou wonders why they came out of their way just for these if they really aren’t local. For a moment, his shoulders broaden when he allows himself to think it might be to see him, but then the more likely option - that they’re back with the jerk from yesterday and here to threaten him into silence - occurs to him and he shrinks in on himself. Koutarou wonders if he’d get fired for offering customers unsolicited relationship advice. He wonders if begging someone to leave their boyfriend and take a chance on him counts as advice at all, even if the boyfriend was far beneath their league.

 

If Akaashi notices Koutarou’s turmoil, they don’t say anything, and Koutarou adopts his best customer-service face, ready to let autopilot save him from humiliation. He begins his usual welcome spiel, but Akaashi cuts him off before he can get out the first syllable.

 

“I need a favour.”

 

“Wha?” Koutarou says, just about managing to form a word that isn’t ‘anything’. Akaashi purses their lips, drumming their fingers on the countertop, and it’s only then that Koutarou notices how uncomfortable they look. He pinches his own fingers together, resisting the urge to take their hand.

 

“Can you change 9,000 yen into coins for me? The smaller the better.”

 

Once again, Koutarou is blindsided. He’s always been told that he’s the unpredictable friend, but here’s a stranger who takes him by surprise every time they meet. 

 

“We’re not technically supposed to do that…” Koutarou says apologetically, and downturn of Akaashi’s lips is like a blow to the chest. “Can I ask why?”

 

“Sudo says I owe him,” they reply, tone sour. “I paid to fix his car three times and never once asked for any reimbursement, but god forbid he buy us both tickets to a concert I didn’t even want to go to…”

 

“Damn,” Koutarou whistles lowly. Akaashi’s answering smile is simultaneously wry and vicious, and Koutarou represses a shiver.

 

“Yeah. I thought I’d make it as difficult for him as possible.”

 

Koutarou laughs. “I see. That’s brutal - can’t you go to a bank or something, though?”

 

“I  _ could _ …” Akaashi says, looking at him meaningfully. Koutarou wishes he could prove they were connected enough for him to understand their meaning, but he’s clueless. “I’m too embarrassed. I don’t want anyone else to judge me, but you already know I’m a petty shit, so...it’s our secret.”

 

_ Our secret _ . Koutarou wants to share a thousand secrets with Akaashi. If they’re manipulating him, it’s working.

 

“I never judged you. The guy’s clearly a jackass. And it’s-” Koutarou swallows down the word  _ hot _ , coughing, “nice to know that you’re human.”

 

Akaashi arches an eyebrow, lips quirking, and their ridicule is almost as attractive as their rage. 

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Oh- shit- I just meant-” Koutarou’s nose wrinkles and he paws at it, eager to hide the colour in his cheeks. “Whenever you were here with the other guy, he did all the talking, right? So you were always so quiet and composed and beautiful -  _ fuck… _ ”

 

Akaashi’s laugh, until recently their only humanising feature, is delighted and surprised. “Too beautiful to be human..? I wish my ex had said things like that to me, I might have had mercy on him.”

 

There’s no hope for Koutarou’s composure anymore. He laughs hoarsely, pushing the sweat from his forehead into his hair and fumbling with the cash register. “Hm, yeah...let me get that change for you…”

 

“You’ll do it? God, you’re a saint....you know, I never actually got your name?”

 

“Bokuto. Bokuto Koutarou,” he offers, cursing how easy he is to tease. Akaashi leans forward over the counter, too close for comfort. “And this isn’t exactly the most saintly thing I’ve ever done.”

 

“So, Bokuto, what is?”

 

9,000 yen is a lot of coins and there’s no one else in the shop to get impatient with him, so Koutarou takes his time, haltingly working his way through the story of how he adopted his dog. Akaashi listens avidly, and maybe it’s because he’s doing what they want, or because they want to hear more compliments, but their attention is addictive, and by the end of the story his confidence has grown.

 

“You’re a real sweetheart,” Akaashi comments, looking up at him from under their eyelashes. Their tone is soft, almost sultry -  _ completely _ inappropriate for the fluorescent lights of the convenience store - and Koutarou allows himself to believe that maybe they sought him out again for more than a favour.

 

“Here it is,” Koutarou says, helping Akaashi scoop the coins into a freezer bag. “Hey, Akaashi…”

 

But Akaashi has checked their watch and already turned on their heels, calling back as they hurry for the door.

 

“Thank you, you’ve been a huge help!”

 

Akaashi is gone in the time it takes for Koutarou’s heart to sink to his stomach, and he kicks the base of the counter in frustration, groaning. He must have looked like a fool, falling for their charm so easily. People can always get what they want from Koutarou.

 

**

 

A week passes, and Koutarou knows it’s ridiculous but he can’t shake himself out of his mood. He’s the kind of guy that loves easily, and gets played often, but a few drinks and some encouragement from his friends are usually all he needs to get back on his feet. This time, though, his disappointment lingers, and he can’t help but feel like it’s  _ his _ fault that things went badly, instead of Akaashi’s for taking advantage of him.

 

“Your heart’s way too big,” Kuroo teases him as he gets ready for another shift. He dreads going into work even more now. He could see Sudo, who leaves his gut feeling sour, and worse than that he might see - or might  _ not  _ see - Akaashi. Koutarou thinks that seeing them would be worse, but each shift he works without encountering them brings him closer to changing his mind. “Clearly they deserved each other.”

 

“Akaashi wasn’t like that!” Koutarou protests, though really, how can he know? They’ve only spoken twice and Akaashi was in the throes of revenge - not exactly a hallmark of a good person. Still… “They were just hurting.”

 

Kuroo huffs, unconvinced. “You don’t need to defend them if you’re never going to see them again. If they really were grateful they’d be back, even just to say thank you.”

 

The truth hurts, and Koutarou isn’t ready to hear it, so he closes the door without responding, making his way to the convenience store with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

 

Things would be a lot easier for Koutarou if he could just stop falling in love with anyone who smiled at him in the right way. Then again, Koutarou still thinks he’d have fallen for Akaashi even if he’d only ever seen their scowl - it was adorably petulant, and their rage was the first thing that had turned Koutarou on.

 

He sulks through his shift, mindless and distracted, and gets more than a few complaints from customers when he miscounts their change or forgets to scan an item. It’s demoralising, like they’re kicking him when he’s already down - even if they couldn’t know it - and four hours in Koutarou feels like he’s going to cry if the next customer so much as looks at him funny. He reaches out blindly to grab the items for scanning, only to find someone’s empty hand instead.

 

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi’s voice is steady, but it sends a shock through Koutarou that has him squeezing their hand instead of letting go. They don’t seem to mind, though, and as Koutarou chokes on his intake of breath Akaashi smiles sweetly, with no trace of the anger from their first conversation.

 

This is an Akaashi who is trying to be charming. This is an Akaashi who is trying to charm  _ Koutarou _ . But why, after all this time? 

 

“Akaashi!” Bokuto squeaks, and then, after a moment, he frowns. “What’s that jackass done this time?”

 

Akaashi tilts their head. “I’m not here about Sudo,” they tell him. “I’ve moved on.”

 

“Good!” Koutarou says firmly, deliberately not thinking about whether they’ve met someone new. “You deserve way better.”

 

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Akaashi says. Koutarou is still holding their hand, and they turn their palm upwards, laying the other one over his to cup it gently. “Do you think someone better would be willing to date me?”

 

“Are you kidding? You’re gorgeous, you’re funny, and you’re- well - I mean, sure! There’s probably a line of people waiting for you…! Who’s the lucky guy? Or other…”

 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says carefully, leaning forward across the counter. Koutarou can feel his cheeks burning, and his emotional fragility resurfaces, threatening to make him cry. He doesn’t want to humiliate himself in front of them any more than he already has. “I’m talking about you. Would you like to go for a drink sometime?”

 

It takes a few long moments for their words to sink in, and Akaashi keeps hold of his hand the whole time, thumb pressing against Koutarou’s knuckles with a soothing firmness. Koutarou looks around the store, half expecting Akaashi to be speaking to someone else, or his supervisor to arrive and reprimand him, but it’s just the two of them, and Akaashi really did say what Koutarou just heard.

 

“Me? But why-?”

 

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me since we met, even though it was in rather embarrassing circumstances,” Akaashi explains, and Koutarou realises that he wasn’t prepared to hear Akaashi compliment him so straightforwardly. “You never judged me, you went out of your way to help me, and I haven’t stopped thinking about what you might look like in something other than that ghastly uniform...or just without it. Are you interested?”

 

Akaashi is smooth as silk, but Koutarou doesn’t miss the flush creeping up the back of their neck. How could he, when he’s spent so much of his time paying attention to them? Akaashi is nervous, and that means they’re invested - that if they want something, it’s a part of Koutarou himself, and not just something he can give.

 

Koutarou’s stumbling assent is met with a smile as gracious as Akaashi’s wrath was damning, and he clutches the phone number they leave like a lifeline for the rest of his shift, floating through it. It takes him the whole evening to think of the perfect first text, but when he sends it, Akaashi replies instantly, and Kuroo rolls his eyes at Koutarou’s enormous grin.

 

To: Akaashi, 21:45pm   
_ Will u reck my car if i make u mad? Bc its not actually mine its my roommates _

 

From: Akaashi, 21:47pm

_ I make no promises. You’ll just have to be good to me. _

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i have twitter [(i remade!)](http://twitter.com/raindryad) and [tumblr](http://deciduice.tumblr.com).


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